


Humiliation

by empyreanTempest



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: F/M, Humiliation, Non-Consensual Kissing, Omorashi, Rosetta takes it too far, Sexual Assault, Verbal Abuse, Watersports, Wetting, i'm sorry i won't be gotten rid of that easily PL fandom....., sequel to an existing work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:27:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3251432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empyreanTempest/pseuds/empyreanTempest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "What goes in-- must come out" by Star_less. Rosetta has a new plaything, and she won't let him get off too easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Humiliation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What goes in-- must come out.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064499) by [Star_less](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_less/pseuds/Star_less). 



The stain on his office floor taunted him. Each time he took a seat at his desk, his eye would be drawn to that discolored spot and all of the memories of that day would flash in his mind like the most awful horror film that he could ever conceive.

"I am Professor Hershel Layton," he would remind himself. "I am a gentleman, and even gentlemen make mistakes. This will be forgotten, as most mistakes are."

Today, though, he was startled out of his reverie by the sound of his office door opening. He turned around, hoping it would be anyone but the person who caused that little 'mistake' in the first place.

"Professor, I've brought you a bit of tea!"

It was Flora. The professor relaxed a bit. There was no way such a sweet, innocent girl could mean anything but goodwill with this gesture. As she set the tray down at his desk,  though, the sight of the steaming brown fluid left an awful taste in the back of his throat.

He had thrown out the offending teapot, of course, but even if his tea was brought to him in just a simple mug as Flora had done, he couldn't help but remember. That awful pattering noise--His own pupil grinning up at him, twisting her wet hand in the fabric of his shirt--

The smell of ammonia.

"Professor?" Flora looked concerned. "Professor, did you not get enough sleep last night? You seem a bit ill."

Layton smiled as best as he could. "I'm quite all right, my dear," he said, picking up the mug and holding it with both hands. The warmth was a bit comforting, as long as he didn't think too hard about it. "I just have a lot on my mind. It's a new day, you know, and there's so much to get done."

Flora returned his smile with a particularly bright one of her own. "Of course, Professor! I'm sure you can manage. But I'll leave you to it if you're awfully busy!"

"Ah, no, it's all right--" The professor began, but was cut short by the sound of the door opening once more. He was expecting Luke, or some other friendly face, but instead he got to gaze into the eyes of the very same person who had helped cause the offending stain in the first place. Immediately, he set down the mug of tea.

"Good morning, Professor," Rosetta said in her lilting voice. "I've brought that research paper you asked for. I'm so sorry it's late, and I can't thank you enough for accepting it." She strode over to him and held out a thin packet.

"Er, yes. You're welcome. It's really no problem." The professor looked to Flora for any sort of comfort, but it seemed she had excused herself as soon as Rosetta entered.

With the professor seated as he was, his student towered over him. He wanted to shrink back in his seat, but showing any sort of weakness around her was bound to cause nothing but trouble.

"My goodness, Professor, this is an awfully suspicious stain you've got here," she remarked, her large eyes flicking downwards to indicate the discolored spot. "It's right under your chair and everything. What could it have possibly been caused by?"

Layton was at a loss for what to do. Nothing was coming to mind as a retort and all he truly wanted to do was hide. So he pulled down the brim of his hat, covering his eyes. Perhaps if he didn't respond, she would leave.

"And oh, do I detect a bit of a scent here?" Rosetta continued, placing her paper on his desk and walking around his chair. "Why, if I'm not mistaken, it smells a bit like... A filthy men's room."

The professor coughed. Certainly the smell hadn't lingered? He had left the puddle to fester for a while, sure, but he did clean it up eventually. He didn't just get used to the smell, did he? "Miss Stone, I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

Rosetta stepped in front of him again and tilted his hat back. "Surely you haven't forgotten how you pissed all over your floor the way a child would, have you?"

"M, Miss Stone! Please, I will not tolerate such language--"

"Shh, Professor. Quiet now." He was ashamed to admit he really had been silenced at her insistence. "It's all right. I won't tell anybody."

He paused. Looking her in the eyes was getting incredibly difficult, but he managed. "You won't?"

"I won't. Of course, I require a bit of compliance on your end as well..." Rosetta deftly pulled a large bottle of water from her bag and thrust it into the professor's hands. "Finish this off by the start of your lecture today. I'm expecting the empty bottle when you arrive. Oh, and no cheating!" She gave him a little wink. "I'll know if you cheat, trust me."

For a moment, Layton just stared at the bottle. It was easily a liter and a half, perhaps even two liters. His lecture was scheduled to begin only thirty minutes from now as well. He couldn't manage a reply, but Rosetta was already on her way out.

Certainly she was lying. There was absolutely no way for her to know if he simply dumped out all of the water. She couldn't possibly be spying on him or anything. He would see her through his window if she were watching him that way, and she very clearly left the room so she wasn't hiding anywhere.

Then he realized. She was expecting another situation similar to the one she had created before. She knew what he looked like desperate now; a student as astute as her would have noticed all of the signs...

She didn't forbid him from using the restroom before the lecture began, though. All he had to do was finish the water with enough time to spare for him to relieve himself properly.

But then she would accuse him of cheating, since he wouldn't be properly desperate during the lecture... He could act, but she was probably expecting something more damning than a bit of fidgeting.

Ultimately, he needed her to stay quiet about the truth behind this awful stain. If all it took was a bit of public discomfort (surely she wouldn't take it beyond that), then he would manage. He had completed a lecture under more dire circumstances than just needing the restroom.

Layton uncapped the bottle and took his first drink.

If the professor were to choose a word that best suited how he felt after finishing off the bottle of water, it would be 'bloated.' He didn't believe he had ever drank that much water in his life, and to think of the several cups of tea he had had that morning... He was beginning to severely regret not taking the time to come up with a way to get out of this arrangement, but a true gentleman wouldn't try to weasel out of an agreement--even if he had never exactly given his word to the agreement.

A scant five minutes remained before he was due at the lecture hall, so he stood. It seemed like the sudden change of position allowed for all of that water to settle at the bottom of his bladder, pressing urgently at his urethra. He did his best to ignore it and left his office, heading down the hallway.

As he neared the lecture hall, he noticed Rosetta leaning against the wall at the corner of the corridor. Perhaps she had been going for stealth, but standing where she was just seemed more out of place. He cautiously approached her and she looked up at him. "You look well, Professor," she said. "Did you want to talk to me about something?"

Layton held out the bottle to her--not having much of a place to hide it, he was getting nervous carrying it around. "Please, take this. And I assume you'll stay true to your word?"

She took the bottle and tucked it into her bag with a swift, practiced motion. "Don't worry, Professor. Your secret is safe with me." She walked around him and headed into the classroom, adding quietly, "For now."

The professor heaved a sigh. There was one burden gone, but another rather urgent one still remaining. However, he could see the lecture hall was already filling up with eager archaeology students. Any other day he would have loved having a full house, as it were, but the dull throb of his needy bladder kept him from enjoying himself. When the last student went through the door, Layton steeled himself and entered as well.

"Good afternoon," he began, standing behind the podium and shuffling his notes. "I trust everyone is prepared for another day of rigorous archaeological study?"

The class collectively murmured their replies and the professor took a moment to look out over the crowd. Though he wouldn't admit it even to himself, he was looking for a certain student... Who he spied sitting in the front row, directly across from his spot behind the podium.

If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn the room suddenly got a lot warmer.

"Yes, well," he said, turning to the chalkboard. "Today's topic will be of great interest for some of you, I'm sure." He wrote the words 'Irrigation Systems Through the Ages' across the board, then suddenly felt his heart sink.

Rosetta hadn't been planning this, had she? It would be impossible to get the timing of everything down so perfectly... Either she had a sharper mind than he had ever thought or the fates were conspiring against him.

He swallowed thickly as he turned back to face the students, his bladder helpfully giving another pang of need as if he had already forgotten how much liquid he had drank.

"Now, who can tell me the first civilization that was discovered to have used irrigation canals in their farms?"

The rest of the class seemed rather silent; the only one who had raised their hand was Rosetta herself. Although giving her attention was about the last thing he wanted to do at the moment, he thought it would appear more suspicious if he didn't acknowledge her at all. "Yes, Miss Stone?"

"The ancient Egyptians, since the great Nile River that flowed through the arid region was their only major source of water."

"Very good," he murmured, turning around to write on the chalkboard. In any other situation, he would have been impressed and quite pleased, but the weight of the water he had drank was at the forefront of his mind. He couldn't dwell on it, he couldn't consider it for even a moment, worried that as soon as he did, he would be unable to keep his composure. Were his hands shaking as he scraped the chalk across the board, or was he imagining things? Was Rosetta staring at him, examining his every movement for signs of weakness, or was he just paranoid? His bladder gave an aching pang as he turned to face the class again.

Barely thirty seconds into his lecture and the professor already felt like giving in.

Time passed, though, and with each minute that ticked by, Layton could practically feel his bladder filling. He had to stay behind the podium now, stiffly grasping each side and twisting his legs where his students couldn't see. Normally he tended to pace along the front of the room as he spoke, occasionally stopping to write a note or two up on the chalkboard, but he simply couldn't bring himself to move. If he stopped tensing every muscle he had, then certainly the most important one would want to relax as well. Beads of sweat formed along his forehead--did they always keep the lecture halls this warm?--and he could feel Rosetta's piercing gaze.

It was no use. He was stumbling over words, taking long pauses, and making short pained noises whenever his bladder would contract and beg him for release. Even the students in the back row could tell something was bothering him, he just knew it; even if he couldn't see their faces, he could feel their disappointed gazes. The professor wanted nothing more to melt into the floor.

"Typically, ancient civilizations did not have the--ah--technology to properly dam a river, s... So instead, they relied on the floodwaters for their canals." He wasn't used to his voice sounding so meek and halting and it just served to make him even more nervous. He gazed out over his audience and noticed how many of his students seemed to be losing interest, gazing off into space or staring down at their notebooks with still pencils. He almost preferred that to Rosetta's unfailing stare, smirking slightly each time he stumbled.

Suddenly, Layton realized he had been silent for a lot longer than he usually was. Some of the bored students were beginning to look up at him again. Come to think of it, his bladder hadn't been bothering him nearly as much in this latest reverie of his...

It was then he noticed the quiet pattering sound of liquid against wood flooring, and looking down he saw a modest puddle spreading out from his feet. He had been pissing himself in front of his class for the better part of a minute, and he hadn't even realized.

He stepped back from the podium, desperately clenching every muscle in his body until he finally cut off his meager stream. He detested the sound of his shoes squeaking against the wet floor, but he did his best to ignore it. "I think that's enough for today, don't you?" He said, his voice suddenly loud and clear. "And it is such a lovely day outside. Ah, class is dismissed for now. Please enjoy yourselves." Perhaps if he kept talking, fewer people would realize what was wrong.

Murmuring amongst themselves, his students began to file out of the room. The professor busied himself with shuffling his notes, desperately trying to look busy while he tried to ignore the feeling of his wet trousers clinging to his skin. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rosetta doing much the same thing as he, taking her time gathering her belongings so she'd be the last one left. Tears were already beginning to sting his eyes and his lower body ached, pleading to continue that release that he had so rudely cut off before.

Some students peeked behind the podium as they left, Layton saw them from the corner of his eye, but he didn't meet their gaze. For all he knew, they were trying to look at some notes that he had been obscuring from where they sat--that's what he continued to tell himself until he was alone in the great lecture hall with one Rosetta Stone.

She strode up to him with all the confidence in the world, her bag slung nonchalantly over her shoulder and her gaze cool and knowing. "Is there something wrong, Professor?" She asked, stepping very deliberately into the puddle he had created. "You never dismiss class early."

The professor pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes. There was a long beat before he spoke. "Miss Stone," he said, his voice low and even. "I believe you know what the problem is."

She scoffed. "Oh, do you mean the fact that you managed to wet yourself in front of your entire class? Honestly, I thought that was just part of the learning experience." She grabbed his groin before he could even tell she was moving, and the shock of feeling her touch him caused another short spurt to leak from him.

"Ah, how filthy!" She cried, though she didn't move her hand away. "You didn't even finish up and you have the gall to piss on my hand? You're disgusting!" She was grinning at him, though, and she gave him a gentle squeeze.

Layton gave a veritable sob as he reached up to grasp her shoulders. "Miss Stone, please," he begged, avoiding her gaze. "Please, let go of me. I don't want to bring harm to a lady, but if you insist on..."

"Oh, come off it. I know you won't hurt me. No one would ever believe you, you know." Regardless, she let go of his groin only to give him a firm push with her wet hand.

He jerked backwards and leaned against the wall, inhaling sharply as he felt another trickle escape. They were both quiet for a moment before the professor finally spoke again. "What do you want?"

Rosetta placed a finger to her lower lip and hummed. "What do I want, eh?" She murmured, stepping closer and pinning him against the wall. "Well, I want you, Professor. I want you to be mine. I want you to answer to me and only to me, and I want you to ask permission before you go moistening anymore nice hardwood floors like you've been so wont to do lately."

The professor swallowed thickly. The tears that had been welling in his eyes finally brimmed over and ran down his cheeks. He had never felt so weak before, so powerless to help himself. There was always the option of raising his hand against her, but she was right. No one would believe his excuse and he didn't want anyone knowing about these awful situations he had gotten himself into. He drew in a deep breath and held it.

"Miss Stone," he began, his voice threatening to crack at any moment. "Please. May I request your permission to... To void my bladder. Please."

She smiled, turning from him for just a moment to pick up the metal wastepaper basket beside the podium. "In this," she instructed, holding it out to him. "Go right ahead."

He stared at the container. It was completely empty and more than big enough to hold everything without any spilling out, but it was university property. It was one thing to ruin something involuntarily, but to do so like this...

Rosetta waggled the bin at him. "Come on, my arm is starting to get tired."

There was little else he could do at the moment. Even if Rosetta would let him leave, he wouldn't be able to move without leaking. So he leaned his back against the wall, jutting his hips out slightly. Rosetta took his hint and moved the bin between his legs, forcing them apart just a bit. When he spread his legs to accommodate it, his bladder immediately released again. The air was filled with the sound of droplets splattering against the metal bottom of the wastebasket as the professor relaxed into his loss of control.

"Not even bothering to take your trousers off this time, Professor?" Rosetta teased, moving the bin up closer to his groin.

He didn't answer her. The relief that was slowly beginning to wash over him was all he could think about. He bore down on his muscles, hastening the series of droplets into a hissing stream that thundered against the bin. His mouth hung slightly open as he heaved a sigh, barely even aware that he was doing so.

Rosetta quickly brought him back to reality, though, swiftly stepping forward and catching his mouth in a kiss. Before he could realize what she was doing, she had thrust her tongue into his mouth and was desperately lapping at his own tongue. Unsure of what to do, he gently echoed her movements, murmuring softly.

Eventually the sound of liquid against metal turned to that of liquid against liquid, and his stream showed no signs of stopping. Rosetta finally broke the kiss, pulling away just enough to speak. "You love this, don't you?" She breathed. "Such a naughty boy, kissing me while you're pissing away."

He stared blankly at her, his mind a foggy mess between the relief, humiliation, and confusion.

"Tell me you love it," she demanded, pushing him harder against the wall and causing his stream to stutter.

"I, I love it," he murmured, and he was promptly rewarded with another kiss.

Finally his stream tapered off, ending with a few forceful spurts as his muscles contracted rhythmically. Rosetta still stood with her hand between his legs, holding the half-full wastepaper basket as she ravaged the professor's mouth. There wasn't much room for him to pull away, at least not without risking knocking the bin out of her hand, so he stayed still and endured it. When she had finally had enough and pulled away, a thin string of saliva connected their tongues.

Rosetta stood up straight and thrust the bin against Layton's chest, forcing him to grab it lest it fall and spill. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she said, "That's enough for now. I'll come to your office the next time we're going to do something." She turned on her heel and started for the door. "Oh. And you'd better hope I don't catch you trying to use the bathroom on your own."

And then she was gone, leaving the professor with a sore mouth, wet trousers, and a wastepaper basket full of his own urine.


End file.
